


Rule of Three

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Consensual Sex, Daddy Kink, Deception, Love, Multi, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Rough Sex, Secrets, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesomes, Triad relationship, pet/master, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Rule of Three" or  "omne trium perfectum"-Definition: "Everything that comes in threes is perfect, or, every set of three is complete." </p><p>Rhys finds himself faced with the offer of a lifetime...become Jack's personal arm candy...or to put it in Jack's terms, his personal 'pet'. Fine dinners, fine clothing, being put up in Jack's fancy condo, having Jack swoon over him like he's made of gold...what's not to love about that right? </p><p>Only catch?</p><p>Rhys isn't Jack's only pretty little sugar baby. Turns out Jack is more of a...triad relationship kind of guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Put a Collar On Me and Call Me Spot

“Here you go cupcake, catch.” Jack sneered from across his desk, rearing back and tossing a small golden object in Rhys’ direction.

The half cybernetic man completely missed and the small thing clattered to the floor with the clink of metal on tile. Rhys quickly dropped to his knees and scooped up the small object that proved to be a tiny, golden key. Rhys was back to his feet in seconds, flush spreading out over his thin cheeks.

“I said catch dumb dumb…not miss and drop it on the floor. Jeezus I bet you weren’t exactly the star athlete in high school huh kiddo?” Jack growled propping his feet up on his war-zone of a workspace and leaning back in the oversized desk chair with a loud creak.

Rhys chose to simply ignore Jack’s mean commentary and looked down at the key in his robotic palm. It looked pretty similar to some sort of house key.

“What…is this?” Rhys questioned slowly turning it over in his fingers.

“Key to my condo kiddo. One of the perks that comes with this gig.” Jack chuckled shooting the confused man a devious grin.

Rhys seemed to hesitate slightly, the small key still in hand.

“So…I’m….” Rhys stuttered slowly.

“Living with me? Yup.” Jack said in a matter-o-fact sort of fashion, giving only half his attention to the accompanying man across the desk from him.

There was a long pause between the two of them as Rhys chose his next words very carefully.

“Oh…I…” Rhys began but Jack abruptly cut him off, holding up a pointed finger to stop the young man in his tracks.

“What would you rather still live in that dumpy apartment of yours?” Jack snarled clearly becoming quickly annoyed with the other man’s hesitance about the whole situation.

Rhys chewed his bottom lip and grit his teeth, choking back all the questions he’d wanted to ask. Jack looked to the lanky man and rolled his eyes, getting up out of his chair with a heavy sigh. Jack’s boots tapped over the hard flooring as he circled around his massive desk and leaned on the other side, waggling his perfect eyebrows at Rhys.

“Look Rhys…Rhysie. This all just comes with the territory. I _like_ you kiddo. I _want_ you kiddo. I want you to be _mine.”_ Jack purred beckoning slowly to the amber haired man standing awkwardly before him.

Rhys made his way forward hesitantly, eyebrows still pushed together as he looked to Jack with curiously worried eyes.

Jack’s warm palms slid up Rhys’ neck and cupped around his sharp jaw, the older, very powerful man tilting his head to the side ever so slowly, his gaze fond as it drank Rhys in. Jack’s perfect teeth buried his bottom lip between them, his eyes slatted and predatory as he angled Rhys’ chin backward just slightly.

“Mmmph kiddo you are one fine piece of ass.” Jack praised running the sharp of his tongue over his top lip slowly, acting as if Rhys were a big juicy steak that he could just eat right up at any moment.

Jack let loose of Rhys’ chin, shaking his head and making an obscene noise in his throat as he did so.

“I’m busy today kiddo. Like I’m up to my eyeballs in getting this shithole back under control, so I don’t have time to spell this all out for ya. I thought we were clear on this, so lemme give you the short hand version to refresh that memory of yours.” Jack swooned tapping his index finger on Rhys’ forehead, getting a wince from the taller man.

“Rhysie, baby, I know you see me as a super cool, awesome savior of words badass hero and all…which I totally am, don’t get me wrong, but I’m more than _just_ that. I’m a _man_ Rhysie, I’ve got _needs._ I know it seems like I’m more of a fighter…but kiddo I’m a _lover_ too.” Jack hissed his voice like velvet and red wine as it wrapped around Rhys’ senses.

Rhys could get absolutely _lost_ in the easy way Jack spoke to him. His tone was all charisma, and ego, and lust, all three components that mixed together to create something not far off from a drug. Rhys was a hopeless addict, begging for just one more hit.

“And oh Rhysie I have got one _big_ appetite. That’s why I need you cupcake.” Jack snarled thickly hefting himself backward to sit up on his messy desk.

To say Rhys had been surprised when Jack had approached him with this little…proposition…would have been a massive understatement. Rhys was pretty sure his heart had stopped the first time Jack had approached him. Rhys had only been close enough to Handsome Jack to admire him from afar, so when Rhys had nearly bumped shoulders with the CEO in the hallway, his eyes plastered to the floor, he had been slightly nervous to say the very least. When Jack had stopped dead in his tracks and barked at Rhys to hold it, Rhys was pretty sure he was either going to get shot or strangled…one of the two. Had he been doing something wrong? Maybe he was out of dress code? Did he walk too close to Jack’s personal space?

Rhys had turned around slowly, fear running rampant in his eyes, pupils shaking as Jack had beckoned him over. At that moment Rhys was silently wishing he’d written an actual will or something, because he was completely certain he was about five seconds from being shot out of an air lock. Rhys had nearly passed out when Jack had proceeded to actually _compliment_ him instead of killing him and then had asked him to come up to his office the next morning for a private meeting. By private meeting he’d really meant he was just going to tear all of Rhys’ clothes off and fuck him senseless over his desk, but Rhys was ok with that too. It had gone on like that for a little while, Jack summoning him for the occasional fuck, until yesterday…when Jack had sprung _this_ on him.

“Trust me Rhysie, you want this gig. You want it bad. It’s a good move for you. You agree to this, first things first we’ll be getting you a whole new arm, in whatever color your little heart desires, and an upgraded echo system. Only the best for my _pets.”_ Jack hissed taking hold of Rhys’ chin for a moment and shaking slightly, getting another cheap, hesitant half grin from the other man.

There it was again…that _word…_ the one that left a funny taste in Rhys’ mouth and settled hard in his stomach.

Three letters, something that you would associate with your dog or cat, definitely not something Rhys would ever find _himself_ labeled as. But none the less Jack seemed overly fond of the title, the word rolling off his tongue with all the consistency of milk chocolate. The shit eating grin that followed closely behind the sentence only told Rhys that the CEO might even be a little _too_ fond of it. Yesterday had been confusing enough and now, Jack really wasn’t making it any better.

 

The Day Previous:

Rhys panted into the hard wood of the now quite familiar desk beneath him, his hot expel of breath fogging the polished surface. Rhys remembered how odd the desk had felt beneath his chest the first time, hard and cold and littered with too much trash. But now, now the desk almost felt like an old friend, Rhys having met with it enough times for him to lose count. The young man’s fingers scrambled and scraped trying to find desperate hold as the body behind him pressed him firm into the furniture. Rhys simply allowed his boneless form to move with each shallow, sloppy thrust, far too weak to give anything back into the movements. Seconds before he’d been moving against each pump of his partner’s hips, pressing backwards greedily, hungrily, but now all he could manage to do was lean hard against the flat surface, spent and useless. He was pretty positive the work slacks pooled around his ankles got the brunt of his shameless finish and there was something wet running down the back of his leg. At that point it was a mystery as to what the wet sensation could be, a tossup between finish or lubricant, either way it was sticky and uncomfortable. His fingers curled in lose paperwork that he hadn’t considered could actually be _important_ but Jack hadn’t said anything yet, so he supposed they weren’t. Rhys’ brain had seemed to come down off his ridiculous high, the aftermath of everything slapping him in the face hard. He had absolutely _ruined_ his only pair of slacks, and as his eyes flicked to the digital clock nearly buried in crap on Jack’s desk, he realized he was now twenty minutes late for a meeting he’d been instructed he _could not_ miss. Rhys whined and shifted slightly, trying to look backward, neck straining to do so.

“J-Jack…I-…I’m really late for-“ Rhys muttered softly his voice still shaky.

Wrong move.

Vicious fingers snapped to the back of Rhys’ head stopping the young man mid-sentence, curling tight and tugging him backward, getting a sharp yelp out of the him with the rough treatment. Nails scraped his perfect scalp and little tears pricked the corners of Rhys’ eyes as the CEO’s fingers pulled the tender strands of wavy locks.

“Oh my god kiddo shut UP, shuddup, shuddup, shuddup! Like a million times, SHUT UP! I am so fucking close, SO. Fucking. Close…and all you…are doing is running your friggin’ mouth!! Consider whatever stupid shit you’re late for _cancelled.”_ The brunette man snarled over his lust heavy tongue, his fingers not loosening until the young man nodded silently.

Jack let loose of Rhys completely, opting instead to shove the young man’s face into the slick desk, big palm forcing him flush to the wood. Jack’s frantic hips rutted up into Rhys’ throbbing entrance, the muscle worried angry and red from Jack taking out his day’s stresses on it for about thirty minutes now. Rhys cringed and breathed out unsteadily. Sometimes this was quick and easy, today not so much so. Jack was in an absolutely sour mood and it looked like he was going to use Rhys’ asshole as his personal stress relief. Jack’s gruff palm pressed into Rhys’ cheek meanly, the golden rings on his fingers creating tiny indentions in the soft flesh. The older man’s eyes slatted open just slightly to watch his own dick slide in and out of the abused hole, Rhys’ puckered flesh fluttering weakly from being fucked so raw and open.

“Ahhhh yeahhhh that’s the stuff kiddo. That’s the fucking stuff.” The CEO grunted his other palm coming to wrap around Rhys’ buttocks, pulling his ass cheeks apart and relishing in the view.

The other man was making completely _obscene_ sounds and Rhys could only figure he was close. The rhythm of his thrusts had deteriorated into a sloppy pace that was jerky and uncoordinated, and his breathing sounded like a bull elephant having an asthma attack…yeah he was close.

Jack made a low sound in his throat, hips stilling as he pressed himself all the way into Rhys’ body hard, fingers tight and mean eyes screwed shut in a look of utter concentration.

With that he was cumming, cock jumping and throbbing in the small space provided, hard cumshots wracking through his thick body. Jack groaned out loudly, his voice echoing out through the office and Rhys instantly wondered how sound proof this place actually was….most likely not very. Knowing Jack he’d want everybody within a two mile radius to hear him having it off. Rhys blushed rapidly at the thought. Jack’s breaths were an indecipherable jumble of praises and curses, rambling off every dirty word his slow brain could grab hold of. He pumped his hips halfheartedly, lazily, not giving much effort into them as he settled into the aftermath of his orgasm. Rhys shivers at the _wet_ full feeling that he is left with, Jack’s palm finally lifting off his cheekbone to flatten against the desk as Jack puts most his weight on it. The CEO makes a satisfied noise and his fingers go to the base of his now wilting cock, sliding it out of Rhys with a nasty sound. Rhys grimaces as he feels most of whatever Jack had dumped into him ooze out and trickle down his thighs. Great, now he was even more of a mess.

Jack teetered a little, his jeans still constricting around his pale legs and he slumped backward into his plush office chair with a loud slap of bare flesh against leather. The powerful man thudded the back of his head against his seat and let loose of an utterly rich groan that was both tired and fulfilled. He reached a big hand out and patted it hard against Rhys’ pale ass cheek a couple of times in an awkwardly praising fashion.

“Oh man kiddo that was the fucking ticket.” The CEO husked lazily a big, carnivorous grin spread out over his thin lips wickedly.

Rhys slowly pushed himself up off the desk that now shimmered in a sheen of perspiration. The young man collected his pathetically wrecked trousers and pulled them up his slender hips in dismay, looking at their soaked nature. Thick white globs of cum decorated the black material disgustingly. Of course he would be wearing black. _Of course._ Jack cracked one eye, the blue one, just in time to catch a glimpse of Rhys’ disgruntled snarl. The young man straightened his blue and white striped dress shirt, readjusted his tie and redid the front catches of his dirty pants.

Jack vibrated with wild chuckles brought on by Rhys’ obvious displeasure.

“Wow cupcake, you sure did make a mess of yourself this time. That should be fun to try and explain to your coworkers. I bet they’ll give ya some super cool nicknames. Like jizzpants, walking cumdumpster. That’s gunna be excellent.” Jack hissed through a sickeningly amused smile.

Rhys’ eyes widened in dismay, a deep frown settling over his lips and Jack only laughed harder.

“Oh my god kiddo, I’m _joking_ get a sense of humor would ya!?” Jack exclaimed thrusting his arms out in a sort of ‘duh’ fashion.

Rhys forced a smile and breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Nah take the rest of the day off. Ya worked hard kiddo, thanks for that. Whew I just might not end up throwing anybody out of an airlock today. I’ll tell all the guys I decide _not_ to kill that they can come thank you.” Jack groaned stretching back in his stupidly expensive chair, flexing his arms up over his head and gritting his teeth up just slightly.

Jack brought his arms back down and cracked his neck to the side, following up with all his fingers. He shook his head slightly as if trying to fight off the sudden urge to take a long nap. The CEO reached down to scratch his groin brazenly, nails scraping over coarse walnut locks as he looked at Rhys with languid eyes. Jack yawned widely and smacked his lips a little slowly grabbing his abandoned pants and hauling them up over his hips, tucking his flaccid cock back into his underwear gently. The powerful man fixed his sex wild hair and hummed out loudly, still basking in post orgasm bliss.

It was an utterly stupid thing for Rhys to actually feel _proud_ that Handsome Jack was actually praising him…but he did, in some sick little way. Knowing that he’d actually calmed the malicious man down a tad was really something of a feat he had to admit. That was like taming a goddamned lion or something. It had earned Rhys an early day off of work… that had to count for something at least. Jack rested his sharp chin on his fist, slumping to one side of his chair as his tired eyes drawled over the lanky man standing hesitantly before him.

With that Jack was groaning and lifting himself up out of his seat with some strained effort.

“You wanna hot pocket or sumthin cupcake?” Jack questioned rolling his shoulders and sauntering over to the built in kitchen unit to the right of his office.

Rhys gingerly rounded Jack’s desk, taking a slow seat in one of the two leather chairs sprawled out in front of the big piece of furniture.

“I’d uh…I’d like some water sir…please.” Rhys stuttered feebly as Jack rummaged around in the massive fridge.

The older man crammed the frozen pocket into the microwave, waited the two minutes then was dragging it out, sauntering over to Rhys and tossing him a bottle of water before plunking himself on top of his work desk.

Jack crammed the food into his mouth, hissing at the temperature and choking a little. Rhys just watched with one cocked eyebrow. The guy may have been the CEO of the biggest company in the galaxy…but the guy was kind of weird. Ok really weird.

Rhys uncapped the water slowly and took several greedy swigs his throat parched with all the rough activity. Jack chewed loudly, swallowing even louder and then took a sloppy swig of the caffeinated beverage to his right. The brunette man wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and threw Rhys a suddenly serious expression.

“So, Rhysie, I been meaning to talk to ya bout something.” Jack hummed suddenly through a mouthful of food.

Rhys grimaced a little. Jeezus didn’t anybody ever teach this guy not to talk with his mouth full?

“Uh, what’s that sir?” Rhys responded adequately after swallowing down a big sip of water.

“So, sweet cheeks, you and me, we’re just a couple of super handsome guys aren’t we? Like we got a lot in common and crap. You’re ambitious, I’m ambitious, you’re hot, I’m totally hot, you’re obsessed with me…I’m obsessed with me...because c’mon let’s face it I’m friggin great-“ Jack chuckled throatily, pausing to suck some cheese from his hot pocket off his thumb noisily.

He let the digit pop from his mouth and then continued, grinning that toothy, wolfish grin that could stop Rhys’ heart dead.

“Bottom line, we’re good together. We _work_ well together.” Jack snarled waving his hand in a little circle casually and propping his boot up on his knee as he perched on the grand desk.

Rhys just sat still, wide eyes watching Jack diligently. Was Handsome Jack about to ask him out on a date or something?

“Look, I like ya kiddo. You’re pretty, you listen well, and you got an ass like a teenage supermodel. I mean that shit is _tight.”_ Jack growled making a nasty gesture with his hand.

Rhys’ eyes narrowed. Yeah this was not Handsome Jack asking him on a date, this was…well…he really wasn’t sure _what_ this was.

“I like our little meetings. You’re a good lay, and I wanna keep ya around. Sooooo I gotta little…offer for you per say…” Jack hissed stuffing the last bit of his high calorie meal into his mouth and wiping the crumbs off of his jeans.

Rhys looked to Jack with curious eyes, wordlessly letting Jack know that he was indeed still listening. Jack grinned widely, all his pearly, vicious teeth glittering before Rhys brilliantly.

“I’m lookin for a new pet sweet cheeks.” Jack sneered leaning forward on his knee.

Rhys shot Jack a slightly offended, slightly taken aback look.

“Uh…a…a what?” Rhys stuttered quietly, grasping his water bottle a little too tightly in his cybernetic fingers and crunching the plastic slightly.

“Pet. Like P-E-T. Do I gotta spell it out for you cupcake? Like…a plaything, a sugar baby, arm candy, ya get where I’m going with this? I mean they gotta million names for it, but you get what I’m saying? I like ya. I like _fucking_ ya. I want to be the _only_ person fucking you. I wanna make this exclusive.” Jack cooed his voice deviously heavy, like some used car salesmen determined to rope Rhys in on a shady deal.

“M-Me?” Rhys pointed at himself dumbly.

Jack’s eyebrows fell and he slumped agitatedly.

“No I’m talking to this desk lamp. Yes _you,_ you friggin moron!!” Jack snapped at Rhys in an irritated tone.

Rhys straightened his back a little and bit his lip hard. Jack recollected his composure and ran his hand up through his thick walnut hair, rubbing his big, gruff palms together slowly.

“I’ve been looking for grade-A pet material, but nobody around this stupid space station tickled my fancy. Well I mean not until you came along.” Jack hissed at Rhys, his hot words buttering the young man up slickly.

“So…would I like…wear a collar and fetch you the newspaper?” Rhys muttered slowly.

Jack leaned back, wild, hearty chuckles exploding up from his chest loudly. The President collected himself waving his hand a little and wiping small tears from his eyes.

“Man I like your spunk kid. But not exactly…I mean not all the time. In the bedroom maybe…but we will get to that hurdle after you agree to this.” Jack praised slapping an open palm on his knee.

“So uh…what do…I get out of it?” Rhys questioned slowly.

Jack quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement.

“So businessman-like. Mee-Ow. Well lemme tell you kitten. For one, imagine all the friggin lavish dinners you can eat, all the fine wine you can drink, imagine being fat and happy lounging on the most regal of furniture, being pampered with the finest of things. Kitten I’ll give you the world if you ask for it. You could have it all, and best of all you get _me.”_ Jack purred to the amber haired man sensually.

Rhys swallowed hard. Riches, power…Jack? Really what more was there to actually _want_. Rhys twiddled his thumbs together softly. That didn’t sound like such a bad gig honestly. Rhys would never admit to how many frozen, crappy fifty cent meals he’d eaten in the past few years, and he was pretty sure he’d never so much as _seen_ fine wine. As absurd as the entire thing was…Rhys found it sounding better and better as he mulled it over in his head. He could be called a pet if it meant a decent meal and some finer things in life. He could deal with that.

“So whaddya say kitten?” Jack husked devilishly.

Rhys looked to him frantically. Should he? Shouldn’t he?

“Going once.” Jack quipped holding up a thick finger.

But what if it was dangerous? He was sure Jack hadn’t exactly gone over all the fine print when explaining this. This could be an utter disaster waiting to happen. Subjecting himself to becoming Handsome Jack’s arm candy? That just had bad written all over it.

“Going twice!” Jack hissed holding up a second finger.

By then Rhys was in a full on panic. This was once in a lifetime. How could he pass this up!?

Jack opened his mouth once more, ready to put up a third finger before Rhys stopped him.

“OK!” Rhys exclaimed breathlessly, the forceful exclamation coming out louder than he’d expected.

A wild, malicious grin crept over Jack’s thin features and instantly that smile alone had Rhys second guessing his decision.

“There we go cupcake. Good answer.” Jack sneered.

“Oh I’m so excited! Mannn this is gunna make for some killer threesomes!” Jack exclaimed clapping his hands together loudly.

Rhys screwed up his face a little.

“Threesomes?” Rhys asked curiously.

Jack grinned wider.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell ya cupcake, this isn’t just a me and you deal. This is a me, you, and my other pet sorta deal.” Jack husked wryly.

Rhys’ jaw dropped open slightly.

“Your _other_ pet?” Rhys fumbled for the words miserably.

“Yeah, course kiddo. I’m a trio relationship kinda guy. Ya know, the more the merrier and all?” Jack quipped viciously.


	2. Freakout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Tim meet for the very first time...it's awkward to say the very least.

Freakout

“Soooo we done talkin’ bout this, or are we still gunna go around in circles cupcake?” Jack hissed suddenly giving Rhys’ cheek a rough little double pat.

“Uh no…no sir.” Rhys muttered wincing slightly and looking down at the small key still in his fingertips.

“So you’re still in right pumpkin? Choose your next words very carefully… don’t go breaking my heart or anything sweet cheeks.” Jack pouted hefting up off his desk and curling his thick fist around Rhys’ tie, yanking the young man forward with sudden insistence.

“Y-Yes sir, I’m still in.” Rhys stuttered stumbling forward into Jack’s personal space clumsily.

Jack’s grin was poisonous as it spread out over his cheeks, and Rhys could just feel the toxins spreading out through his veins. Jack’s fingers were firm as they tugged Rhys’ tie out of his pants and curled it twice around his palm, forcing Rhys to lean down, eye level with the Hyperion CEO. Rhys found himself nose to nose with Jack, mismatched eyes burning holes in his very structure.

“Good boy.” Jack husked running his tongue up the side of Rhys’ cheek.

Rhys cringed and felt his stomach drop down into his ass, hands fisting at his sides.

“You and me kiddo…we are gunna have _tons_ of fun.” Jack snarled allowing the sharp of his tongue to run smoothly around the shell of Rhys’ ear.

Rhys found himself clinging to every syllable as they fell from Jack’s lips. He bathed himself in all the promises and sly words. He should have been terrified really. Who in the right mind would agree to something like this? He would…apparently. Rhys melted into the wet, erotic sensation, shoving all thoughts of caution back down into his depths where they came from. Maybe he wasn’t in the right mind…and maybe…maybe he didn’t really want to be.

Rhys could only nod feebly and arch into Jack’s grasp, his cheeks running hot with flush. Jack’s fingers tugged on Rhys’ beltline, wandering to the taught line of the young man’s cock pressed flush and livid against his slacks. Rhys vaulted forward, letting go of an embarrassingly needy sound. Jack’s digits paused leaving the taller male to rock against his big palm fruitlessly, searching for more friction and huffing out when Jack refused to give it to him.

“Oh man kiddo you’re like a friggin cat in heat aren’t ya?” Jack sniggered meanly, letting loose of Rhys’ tie and leaving the kid abandoned where he stood.

The CEO sauntered around the desk at a lazy pace, his swagger full of pride and grace. He plunked himself down in the grand office chair and spun it around a couple of times before stopping and addressing the needy man still occupying his office. Rhys suddenly felt very ashamed of himself, his eyes hitting the floor meekly his hands gently tucking his tie back into place. The pitiful man shifted a little, attempting to ease away the tightness in his crotch without prevail.

Jack only seemed to feed off the young man’s discomfort, his dirty grin widening lopsidedly.

“Look, sorry kiddo, as much as I’d like to fuck you into next Wednesday, I got some major projects to wrap up here. It’s gunna be a late one. Why don’t you take that key, run along and make yourself at home…take a cold shower maybe.” Jack teased viciously, throwing Rhys a sly wink.

Rhys swallowed thickly, his cheeks only flushing more rapidly. God he looked like such an idiot, and Jack had him in the absolute palm of his hand. Jack was pulling all his strings, and it was unnerving to see how much pleasure the CEO seemed to get out of it.

“I’m uh…allowed in there even when you aren’t home?” Rhys questioned slowly.

Jack rolled his eyes hard and huffed out.

“Uh yeah, duh? Like… you live there now kiddo. Already put in the order to have all your stuff moved up this morning. Last room, down the hall to the left. You’ll figure it out. Well I mean I hope you’ll figure it out…dunno you seem a little slow today kiddo. You been snorting something or what? Like those hybrid mushrooms they got growing down in the Section E labs, those things will freeze the hell out of your noggin. Don’t snort those.” Jack snarled lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“You had my things moved?? Without asking me?” Rhys choked looking to Jack with wide eyes.

“Yeah, Yeah well I mean you agreed to this like yesterday. So duh, the sooner we get this thing rolling, the better. I wanna come home to two pretty little playthings like…asap.” Jack huffed rolling his desk chair to his computer screens and opening up a spreadsheet.

Obviously Jack seemed very done with the entire conversation and couldn’t seem to see why the kid had his panties in a bunch over him moving his crap.

“But you hadn’t even told me I’d be _living_ with you! That’s kind of a big deal Jack!” Rhys complained.

Jack seemed to bristle at the attitude being fired back at him from the lanky kid still hanging around his office.

“Honestly I’d think a little thanks is in order. Seeing as you didn’t have to lift a finger to move all that shit out of your apartment, and I am giving you the keys to the most _expensive_ condo on Helios. Really I don’t like the tone of voice you’re getting with me kiddo.” Jack hissed his voice laced with warning.

Rhys swallowed thickly and shifted in his seat.

“Sorry sir. It’s just…a lot to take in…and I’ve had a long day.” Rhys sighed maybe a little too honestly.

He had indeed endured an especially wearing day, too much paper work and too many presentations to put together in a mere twelve hour span. He’d been up early and the hour was already pushing nine. He was tired, and this entire conversation was not making it any better. The pulls of right and wrong still stuck with his bones and his decisions from yesterday were all coming back to him like unwanted ghosts lingering around coldly.

Jack’s eyes side glanced to the thin man still taking up space in his office furniture and a sly grin followed it closely.

“Apology accepted kiddo. Now seriously, get the hell outta here I have shit to do. Take the elevator in sector A, ride it to the top, doors are gunna ask for your passkey, just stick your thumb in the little reader and boom, access granted. I own the _whole_ floor. So it’s the only door there. Try not to get lost kitten.” Jack cooed throwing Rhys a sly wink and a grin, his fingers clattering across his keyboard noisily as he took the attention he was giving to Rhys and offered it fully to his work instead.

“Ok…and I’m allowed to…touch things?” Rhys questioned hesitantly.

Jack groaned out loudly.

“YES! For crissakes kiddo how many times do I have to repeat myself!? Go wherever you like, eat whatever you like, just do not…I repeat _do not_ go into _my_ room. Not without me at least. Get it? Got it? Good. Now…get. Out. Of. My. Hair.” Jack snapped and Rhys immediately knew he had used up all his question tokens and all the patience Jack had for him.

End game, he was on his own whether he liked it or not.

“Yes sir.” Rhys muttered getting up out of his seat and turning for the door, fingers still playing over the small key in his hand.

Jack did not look up again as Rhys made his way to the CEO’s office doors. Rhys glanced back over his shoulder only to see Jack completely consumed in his computer screen and he sighed heavily before heading through the hydraulic doors, letting them close loudly behind him as he paused in the hallway. Rhys frowned deeply and looked down at the house key once more. What in _hells_ name had he gotten himself into?

The elevator ride was possibly the longest journey of Rhys' entire life. He leaned nervously on the back wall of the fancy elevator fingers tapping out of rhythm along the hand rail. He’d never so much as set foot in this section, and the expensive looking interior and décor in the elevator alone had him realizing he sure as hell wasn’t in his old sector anymore. This was the territory that employees like him only dreamed about. This was the place of legends. Like an old tall tale, nobody really even knew what this sector looked like so they would simply make up stories of how they think it was all laid out. Rhys had heard plenty of stories about grand golden fountains, open bars, sex workers at the ready when one of the higher ups so much as snapped their fingers. Rhys had heard lavish tales of parties thrown in this sector, girls in nothing more than body chains and jewelry, all decked out in high heels made of diamonds and rubies, men that looked like they belonged on the cover of high end porn magazines, with their bright teeth and cut bodies. Parties with drugs and champagne and drunken orgies, tales so unrealistic they had to be seen to be believed. Knowing Jack’s tastes first hand now, Rhys no longer doubted those types of parties existed. He figured it would only be a matter of time before he himself would be attending such swarays. Rhys swallowed down the lump in his throat and eyed the changing numbers on the screen above the elevator doors. He’d just past fifty six, and Rhys was honestly beginning to wonder where this thing actually stopped.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator chimed and rocked Rhys right out of his deep, nervous thoughts.

The all too familiar mechanical Hyperion voice then rambled off a slow, easy ‘Passkey required please state identity’. Rhys did as he’d been instructed and pressed his thumb to the small reader located beside the floor buttons. The small device hummed as it read Rhys thumb pad and then blinked green a deadpan announcement of ‘access granted’ following immediately. Slow doors yawned open, allowing Rhys into a world that his meager eyes were not accustomed to. The sixty ninth floor…no doubt Jack had _that_ done on purpose Rhys thought shaking his head slightly and stepping forth into the small lobby area. The room was lined with exotic looking plant life, all potted in highly decorative planters, big full leaves spreading out wide and inviting. The entire ceiling was glass, giving a brilliant view out into space, glowering midnight purple casting down over Rhys’ form. Rhys barely heard the elevator doors close as he stood there staring upward in awe. He’d seen the view from Helios for years, he figured he should be used to it by now…but a view like that just never seemed to fade in its breathless nature. It was always just as brilliantly stunning, the stars all winking down at him like salt that had been spilled across the glorious magenta sky. They sure as hell didn’t have skylights like this back in his sector…well…he supposed it was his old sector now. Rhys let go of a long sigh as he padded across the large space, the polished wood floor hard beneath his over worn dress shoes.

The key felt like it was burning a hole through his palm as he held it. Rhys looked to the door with unsure eyes, it was red oak, with a gold plaque set dead center that had the numbers eight hundred engraved in it. No doubt it was real gold, and the wood was most likely imported from a couple planets over. It probably cost more than an entire months’ worth of Rhys salary.

Rhys frowned deeper.

He didn’t belong in a place like this. He had on one of his only three pairs of work slacks that he owned, he had on a pair of shoes that had indeed seen better days and his tie was faded from far too many wears. He made just enough to live off. He’d only been with the company for two years and the fight to get on top was rougher than he’d really planned for. Too many predators fighting for the same carcass. There just wasn’t enough to go around. Rhys’ salary provided him with just enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach… that did not leave much room for a new wardrobe unfortunately. So he made do with what he had. It had forced him to be quite handy with a needle and thread that was for sure. Rhys was used to microwaveable meals and living life on a strict budget. He didn’t belong in a place like this, with its exotic plants and fancy décor. None of this felt right.

But he was too deep in. He’d jumped headlong without really thinking about the consequences…and here he was. No turning back now.

Rhys took a deep breath, filling out his lungs with air slowly, then expelled it as he took the golden key and shoved it into the lock, turning firmly with a small click. The young man pushed the door open, eyes closed, shoulder forcing passage for himself and then he paused.

Rhys stood there in the doorframe stupidly, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as he soaked it all in. A massive entryway opened up into three different rooms, a grand chandelier crooning right over his head, twinkling and glittering with brilliant light.

“Holy shit…” Rhys breathed slowly stepping inside and letting the door thud closed behind his turned back.

Directly in front of him the entryway widened into a massive living room, laid out with all modern furniture, black couches, white coffee tables, patterned black and white rugs with Hyperion yellow accents. To the left it gave way to what Rhys could only imagine was the start of the kitchen the grand space occupied by huge cabinets and stainless steel appliances, marble countertops and a sink so big Rhys was sure a grown man could bathe in it. Rhys’ shoes slapped the ground hesitantly, eyes darting over the walls and flooring, trying to take it all in hopelessly. It was like he’d simply walked right into some sort of alternate dimension. Everything was so perfect and so clean, pristine in every sense of the definition. The young man tiptoed into the living area, running his hand over the closest massive black couch, looking over to the huge echo screen set mounted to the wall, flickering with some documentary that Rhys didn’t recognize. Rhys only had a few channels on his crappy excuse for an echo televison, he most likely didn’t even have access to whatever was blinking on the great screen before him. The space had it all. Couches, tables, nooks, shelves lined with books, end tables littered with magazines, a grand fireplace, a full length bar that peered into the kitchen, lined with all black bar stools. The room was sickeningly modern in every way. Jack had expensive tastes and it showed heavily in his choice of décor.

The man had class, Rhys had to hand it to him.

The young man looked down to the coffee table before him. The echo remote lay strewn there along with an empty bowl and spoon that looked like it might have contained some sort of food about ten minutes ago. The cup next to the little bowl was half full of water and Rhys cocked an eyebrow at the scene. It looked like someone had been here…quite recently. Rhys grunted. Jack hadn’t said anything about anybody else _being_ here. He hadn’t said anything about his….other _pet_ being here. The word still caused Rhys to cringe and gnash his teeth together.

Maybe this was just leftovers from Jack stopping by or something, Rhys thought to himself paying the mess little mind and heading off in the direction of what looked to be a hallway. He supposed he’d have to figure out which room was his. Another long sigh pulled out of the tired man’s body. This was entirely too much activity and change for one day. This certainly could not be healthy for him to endure. But Jack liked things fast paced and well, this was his fault for even agreeing to all of this…so he supposed he better just get used to it and hang on for the ride. Really all he wanted was some aspirin, a long shower, his favorite pair of baggy athletic shorts, and a warm bed. He damned well deserved it after this roller coaster of a day. Rhys paused in the long hallway for a moment when his eyes caught sight of something…odd. Rhys cocked his eyebrow slightly and looked down at the tiny collection of red droplets on the hard wood floor. If Rhys didn’t know any better, he would have sworn it looked like…blood. No. It couldn’t be blood. Why in the hell would there be blood in Jack’s condo? Well unless this was all just some elaborate act, and Jack was really just luring Rhys up here to murder him and slice his body up into little pieces. Rhys grimaced and shook his head. Jack was crazy…but he wasn’t _that_ crazy. At least he hoped not.

Rhys was torn from his thoughts when there was a sudden thud in the room directly ahead of him. Rhys perked up slightly, all the hairs on his arms suddenly standing on end. This was such a bad idea. Maybe Jack really was going to slice him up with a kitchen knife. Oh god he’d just aided in walking right into his very own slasher horror flick. He was the dumb idiot kid to fall for the serial killers tricks. Oh he was dead meat. He was going to end up in fifteen different pieces, bagged up and stuffed in the freezer. Rhys froze as the sound of footsteps sounded through the room. He wasn’t alone. There was someone else here.

Rhys could feel his heart in his throat, the organ thundering wildly, blood pounding in his ears. Everything in him seemed to come to life in wild terror. Jack was unpredictable, god he should have known better, this was all too good to be true, he hoped Vaughn and Yvette would figure it out. He hoped someone would find his body for god’s sake. Maybe Jack would bury his pieces down on Elpis and nobody would ever know where Rhys disappeared to.

Rhys made a low whine in his throat, oh it was all over now, he was trapped like a rat, his wild imagination running away with the fear that Jack was in fact going to off him.

Rhys made to start backing up, but before he could, there was a form filling the doorway. Rhys’ wide, frightened eyes met with all too familiar mismatched green and blue.

Jack.

But not _just_ Jack.

Jack shirtless, covered from head to toe in blood, guts and what Rhys could swear was possibly brain matter. Rhys just about fell over dead, a loud gasp coming out of his lips, his pupils shrinking rapidly as he stumbled backward, stuttering cowardly.

Jack seemed just as surprised as Rhys, letting loose of a loud yelp and nearly tumbling backward, dropping the bloody towel that he’d been using to wipe off his arms.

Was that a small intestine wrapped around his arm?

With that Rhys’ eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor hard, out cold.

 

 

 

Rhys blinks.

Once, twice, three times.

Big, open, slow blinks soaked with hazy confusion, his eyelids parting weakly, a low groan rumbling off his throat. The young man’s incongruous eyes flicker, the bright light of what looks to be some sort of LED bulb casting down on him unpleasantly. Rhys whines under his breath about it being so bright and almost instantly the lights dim, and Rhys is positive he hears a faint whisper that takes the form of an ‘I’m sorry’. Rhys scrunches his eyebrows together. His hands touch over the foreign object that he’s obviously laying on. It’s soft and cool, the material smooth and dark beneath his hands. It feels and smells like leather, the scent coming up to tease at his nostrils playfully. The young man rolls, getting one of his elbows up underneath him and pushes up, eyes looking down to the mass of black leather beneath him. He was sprawled out on one of Jack’s massive condos.

Rhys hefted himself up into a sitting position, his body protesting the movement with a vengeance, his head screaming at the action more than anything. Rhys rubbed the dull ache settled back in his head and ran his fingers through the soft locks at his nape. Why in the world did his head feel like it had been kicked in with a heavy boot? Why couldn’t he remember how he got on the couch in the first place?

Rhys remembered the elevator ride up, the grand kitchen, the living room, he thought he’d made it into the hallway but maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he’d merely made it to the living space and fallen asleep on the couch. That seemed like a realistic outcome judging by his exhaustion. But then why did his head ache? Thinking back he sure had been having a weird dream too… Rhys pressed the flats of his palms into his throbbing eye sockets and tried to clear up his hazy vision.

Suddenly Rhys’ hairs prickled at the feeling of another presence in the room. He really hadn’t checked to see if he was alone when he’d awoken, but now, now he was face with the fact that he could feel someone _staring_ at him. Rhys took his palms away from his eyes slowly eyes slowly daring to scan his surroundings in one slow sweep.

Eyes meet, and Rhys’ breath catches and an inhumane gasp drags out of his lungs. The figure settled across the living room in one of the egg shaped white chairs brings the fact that Rhys actually _wasn’t_ dreaming into brilliant reality.

The other man holds out his hands defensively and cringes when Rhys screams so loud it causes his ears to ring.

“H-Hey! Woah calm down!” The other man pleaded as Rhys scrambled backward over the couch and hit the floor hard…again.

Everything comes rushing back to Rhys in a wave of vicious consciousness. Jack, Jack covered in blood, then everything going black and Rhys body giving way out from under him.

There’s the soft pad of bare feet on hard floor and Jack is rounding the couch, hands still held out in a defensive, non-threatening fashion.

“Hey stop! I’m not gunna hurt you!” Jack pleaded his face screwed up in dismay as Rhys scrambled backward across the floor, looking very much so like some sort of upside down crab.

He was all legs and arms and knees as he fumbled away from Jack, eyes wide and shaky as his back bumped into an end table and the big lamb upon it teetered threateningly. Rhys’ breaths came in short, shallow pants, his chest heaving, his pupils blown, nostrils flaring. For the first time he actually allowed himself a good look at the man standing before him, his eyes searching wildly over an expression that seemed oddly out of place on Jack’s features. Rhys tilted his head, suddenly noticing a very strange detail about the other man’s features. His eyes instinctively searched for the familiar outline of Jack’s mask, the slight tonal difference between his false flesh and the real thing. Even more confusion washed over Rhys’ from as he realized that the man before him…was not wearing a mask. The other male’s face was pristine and angular, sharp cheekbones perfect and untouched. He had dark rings clinging around his sockets from a lack of sleep and what looked to be about a three day old stubble clinging to his square jaw.

“W-Who the heck are you??” Rhys blurted out suddenly, the statement coming out much ruder than he’d really meant.

Thankfully the other man didn’t really seem to take offense to the prying question and instead he just smiled sheepishly, the grin spreading across his face with a much gentler tinge than Jack’s normal sneer. There was just something significantly _off_ about the man. He looked like Jack, he damn sure sounded like Jack, everything about him was Jack…and yet…it wasn’t in the same breath. His eyes were kinder, his demeanor far less overwhelming and dominant, more subdued and easy in fashion. The man stood slowly from his crouched position on his haunches and Rhys got a good eyeful of everything that he was. He was adorned in just a pair of baggy grey sweat pants, the clothing falling down his hips just slightly, allowing a healthy amount of coarse brown hairs to peek out from his hem. There was a large pad of gauze taped over his left peck and there were scars running like lightening down his thin torso. He had a big purple bruise blooming on his left hipbone and Rhys suddenly wondered if the guy had gotten into a fist fight with a skag or something. The subtle pink scars running rampant over the brownish skin were not the same as Jack’s either. Jack had a few scars here and there, but nothing like this man. He looked like he’d gone all seven rounds in one of Elpis’ famous Holodome fights and had come out barely alive.

“Here lemme help you up off the floor at least.” The other man said smiling in a way that almost seemed a tad…shy.

Handsome Jack was everything but shy. Rhys was floundering for explanations as he allowed the big, familiar palm to wrap around his tightly and haul him up onto two feet. Rhys found himself holding onto the man’s fingers for just a little longer than he should have, the action quickly becoming awkward and Rhys let loose of it suddenly, pink gathering on the sharps of his cheeks.

“The name’s Timothy. But uh…legally…I’m supposed to address myself as ‘Jack’ at all times. But you’re kinda an exception I suppose.” Timothy stated grinning gently at Rhys.

“So…what...why…why do you look like…Jack?” Rhys questioned intrusively.

“Hired body double. Paid to look and act like Jack at all times. You need a hero kiddo? Cause you are looking right at him!” Timothy announced sinking into his best Jack impersonation, hands finding his hips in an utterly cocky fashion.

Rhys had to admit, the guy was pretty good at that. Though his eyes still gave it away. His eyes were curious and full of life, full of something very close to…kindness maybe? There was none of that hiding behind Jack’s vicious orbs. There was just maniacal, power lust. That was it. Maybe there had been more settled behind Jack’s pupils a long time ago, but all of that had since faded and withered. Jack had these eyes that swallowed up everything around him he had eyes that brought men down to their begging knees. Jack had eyes that could cast fear into the hearts of even the most powerful of beings. Jack had eyes that held a lingering taste of betrayal. Tim’s didn’t. Tim’s eyes had not yet been betrayed by the world and everything in it.

Rhys cracked a small smile at the body double’s sly Jack impersonation. With that the air between them seemed to ease just a little, tension giving way to eager curiosities.

“You took kind of a nasty spill. You ok? Please say you’re ok. Jack would friggin skin me alive if he found out I injured you within five seconds of meeting you.” Tim grimaced looking at Rhys with genuinely worried eyes.

Rhys rubbed the back of his head tenderly, feeling a slight sting as his pads ran across a little lump formed beneath his soft locks.

“I’m alright. No permanent damage I don’t think. I uh…I could use an ice pack and an aspirin though…” Rhys admitted offering the doppelganger a half smile.

With that the other man ushered Rhys down onto the big, plush couch and was sauntering off to the kitchen to retrieve said items. Rhys found his eyes following after the ridiculously perfect man, clinging to his every step. He didn’t walk like Jack either. He kind of shuffled awkwardly; shoulders slumped forward in a way that gave him an approachable aura rather than the powerful swagger that Jack carried. The baggy grey sweatpants just barely clung to his thin hips, hanging desperately to a toned waist but failing miserably. One of the look-alike’s big palms came to curl in the material and haul it back up his hips when it hung too loose and nearly fell down his ass. The way the slack material moved with him had Rhys’ throat tightening and his heart quickening in ways he really hadn’t expected. The man was all the things Rhys obviously found attractive, but in a gentle, non-dangerous fashion. Rhys’ curiosity was perked and he just couldn’t help himself from watching the pretty man’s every movement. It wasn’t graceful like Jack, it wasn’t pompous and mighty, it was…human. The doppelganger stubbed his toe on the kitchen island whilst trying to rummage through the cabinets for aspirin and he didn’t curse, but simply let loose of a whiney ‘jeezus!’ hopping a little and hissing at the pain. Rhys let a smile creep over his lips. Timothy was a strange sight to say the least.

Finally after a little more searching the doppelganger rounded the couch, handing Rhys a cup of water, two pills and an ice pack. Rhys groaned out his expel of breath carrying a thanks that needed no words to explain. The young man threw back the pills, chasing them with a sip of water and settled the glass on one of the coasters provided.

“So Rhys? Right?” Timothy asked snugging himself lazily over the couch cushions, acting like it was really not that big of a deal that he was fashioned in such…revealing attire.

His obviously well used sweatpants looked worn to the touch, the dictionary definition of ‘lazy day clothes’ and Rhys would be damned lying if he tried to say it was anything but unnervingly sexy. He had only just met the man, he needed to pull himself together, he thought desperately. But it didn’t _feel_ like they had just met. Everything about the man was familiar, everything about the man was what Rhys had become so accustomed to associating sexual contact with. Rhys was hopelessly hooked on Jack and this man was the very epitome of Jack, just without all the mean comments and snarky words.

Rhys dragged himself away from his thoughts for just long enough to nod his head stupidly at the gorgeous man sitting so comfortably splayed on the leather next to him.

“U-Um yeah, yeah that’s me. How did you-“ Rhys questioned pressing the cold back to the struck area of his head.

Timothy smiled shyly.

“Uh…w-well Jack has kinda told me about you. Like… _all_ about you.” Timothy chuckled draping one strong arm over the back of the couch.

Rhys met eyes with the beautiful man and there was instant blush settling over both their cheeks, Tim dropping his eyes first and Rhys doing the same, gingerly adjusting the ice pack on his head as he did so.

Of course Jack’s other _‘pet’_ would be a body double of himself. Rhys really wanted to be a little sick with how ridiculously narcissistic it was, but sitting here in the doppelgangers presence Rhys really couldn’t find it in himself to be anything except _enthralled._

Timothy seemed to reconsider how…dirty the last comment had sounded and backpedaled hesitantly.

“W-w-well I mean…not everything…he hasn’t told me everything, just uh…some…things…” Timothy stammered the blush on his sharp cheeks painting hot and red.

Rhys just snorted and threw out a genuine smile in the perfect body double’s direction.

“Pfft knowing Jack I’m sure he told you a good amount.” Rhys chuckled.

“So…can I just ask…was seeing you covered in guts part of my imagination or…?” Rhys continued cocking an eyebrow at his gorgeous company.

Timothy grimaced in response to the question.

“Oh…yeah…sorry about that. I just got back from a mission on Elpis….it uh…got messy.” Timothy explained seeming to gag just slightly when faced with remembering what had gone on down there.

Rhys’ interest was peaked once more, his wide heterochromatic eyes soaking up every word as the doppelganger explained.

“Elpis?” Rhys repeated clearly wanting the other man to elaborate.

“Yeah. Hired body double, also hired Vault Hunter…or murderer…whichever way you want to look at it.” Timothy mumbled clearly off put by having to bring up that other aspect of his career.

The surprise on Rhys face must have been obvious because Tim seemed to sigh as their eyes met.

“Yeah I know I sure as heck don’t look like any Vault Hunter…trust me, I don’t feel like one either.” Tim explained his voice ringing with a hollow regret that for a moment caused Rhys’ throat to clench.

“Well I mean…you look a lot more…friendly than any of the other Vault Hunters I’ve met. I mean I haven’t met….a lot of them per say….I ran into Nisha once. I stepped on her boot and she threatened to pistol whip me into oblivion if I ever did that again….not exactly a good first impression of Vault Hunters.” Rhys explained shivering at the terrifying memory.

Tim rolled his eyes.

“That woman is insane. Jack pursued her for a little while…brought her back for a threesome once, not that I was really in agreement with all of _that…_ but that was the first and last time. The both of us ended up with whip marks and hurt egos. Needless to say she wasn’t impressed with either of us. That was certainly an awkward night. Jack’s hard….but that crazy woman is harder.” Timothy blurted out unabashedly, wincing slightly.

Rhys only chuckled heartily. God what he wouldn’t have paid to see Jack get a little of his own medicine handed over by a powerful woman. Rhys could have just imagined how hard Jack would have been sulking the day after that. The thought alone had the young man deteriorating into wild giggles.

“I think I would have paid money to see Jack mope after getting beat to hell and back by that woman.” Rhys giggled.

Timothy joined in the genuine laughter.

“Oh you would have thought the guy’s dog had died for about two days. He really doesn’t take rejection well.” Timothy said shaking his head.

“So you…you’re the other uh…arm candy?” Rhys asked suddenly changing the subject.

He knew the answer really, he supposed he just wanted a little confirmation.

Timothy snorted and laughed.

“Yeah. That’s a nicer name than what Jack usually calls it.” Timothy chortled.

“Oh trust me…I know.” Rhys said shrugging lightly.

“So uh…mind if I go get comfortable? My room is…which way?” Rhys questioned setting the ice pack on the coffee table.

Tim pointed in the direction of the hallway and smiled shyly at the other man.

“Thatta way! And uh…m-maybe after you change…we could you know…relax and open up a bottle of Jack’s expensive champagne? You know…just get to know each other? Since we’re in this together and…all.” Tim questioned timidly twiddling his thumbs together.

Rhys threw Tim a large, beaming smile.

“I’d really like that.” Rhys replied.

The meet of their eyes was so full of attraction it was overwhelming. The force in which Rhys was drawn into the other man was overwhelming and shocking. He found himself rocked with the intensity of it all. It was the shy way Tim would only meet eyes with him for a few seconds at a time. It was the very human way he chewed his lip far too often. It was the way his eyes shifted and played in their sockets. It was the way he sat on the furniture, not proud, not pompous…just relaxed.

Oh what had Rhys gotten himself into?

 

 


	3. Boys will be Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Tim seem to get a long pretty well for their first meeting....;)

Boys Will be Boys

The lighting in the large lounge room is dim, the tinted lamps casting red shadows up the dark green walls. The furniture huddled around the room was darker in color, less modern and more rustic with wooden accents that gave it a bar like feel. The vast room left Rhys with a sort of inviting sense that hadn’t been there with the rest of the home. There’s a pool table set dead center of the room, surrounded by couches lined with animal skins, mounts clinging to the walls like massive trophies. Big animal busts, taxidermy at its best, big beasts with resting faces adorning more teeth than Rhys would like to count. Rhys recognizes an alpha skag only due to a book he’d once read on Pandoran wildlife and he runs a slow hand over the big snout of it.

“Have you ever seen one of these things up close?” Rhys questions his eyes flicking across the room to his counterpart that is sprawled lazily across one of the pretty little wooden barstools.

Timothy shakes his head and grimaces outwardly, his gruff fingers seeming to clutch a little tighter around his long stemmed glass, newly refilled with a hearty amount of the most expensive looking champagne the two boys could find beneath Jack’s personal bar. Timothy had dragged the dark purple colored bottle down from one of the top shelves and had looked to Rhys as if they were two teenage boys drinking from their fathers liquor stash for the first time. Timothy had assured that if they were going to drink high end champagne, this was the stuff. Something imported off of Eden 6 that had some rare flower extract that could only be harvested every one hundred years or so. Rhys was pretty sure just the golden label wrapped around the bottle cost more than everything to his name combined. But oh that was _chump change_ according to Jack.

“I’ve never seen a skag in real life before. I’ve never been down to Pandora actually…nor do I really want to…” Timothy shuddered in response clutching his glass in two hands and taking a sip.

The way he drank from the small glass was anything but dainty and regal. It was damned sure not the way Jack would drink _his_ champagne. Timothy swallowed too loudly, and licked his lips too often, but honestly in the moment at hand…Rhys found that far more enthralling. It was a strange thing, his brain constantly mapping out how Timothy should be reacting to things based off of Jack’s mannerisms, and yet it was always a pleasant surprise when the doppelganger didn’t do them. Tim sat in his chair with a slouched aura to him, his long legs folded up in the seat crossed over each other awkwardly. He was much too big to be curled up on the tiny barstool like so, but somehow he made it work without completely tumbling off of it.

Rhys wandered back around the room, eyeing the mounts of badass kraggons, massive stalkers, Threshers and other beasts that Rhys couldn’t really remember the species names of. A quick scan of his echo eye could have fixed that, but he was less worried about the dead animals on the walls and more interested in the very alive, very beautiful man to his left.

“Yeah…I’ve only read stories and heard talk of it. Never been there. Never been to Elpis either…” Rhys pondered easing himself down onto the barstool directly in front of Timothy.

Rhys was adorned in just a simple Hyperion yellow shirt and some grey boxer briefs, having opted for his most comfortable lazy clothes, not really feeling too out of place considering what the doppelganger was wearing. Rhys swallowed hard as his eyes lingered on the other man’s toned body for just a little longer than he really should have. It was just hard to tear his eyes away from the hauntingly familiar man. He was by far the most interesting thing taking up space in the room.

“You aren’t really missing anything. It’s just a big, cold, rock where everybody tries to shoot you.” Timothy frowned darkly.

Rhys shared his grim expression and tilted his head to the side.

“But…I mean it is kinda cool that you’re like a super badass and all…and that you know how to shoot and take down scavs…” Rhys admitted smiling sheepishly.

He wasn’t sure if it was the light buzz building warmly just beneath his skin, or his sheer curious nature, but he just couldn’t keep up with all the questions he wanted to ask the strange man before him. He wanted to know everything about him, every single aspect. He wanted to hear about Elpis and all the missions the doppelganger had to carry out there.

Timothy just shrugged in response.

“It’s ok I guess. I’m not really a cold blooded killer…it…it’s not really…me.” The brunette man admitted and instantly Rhys felt sorry for bringing up the sore subject.

Rhys frowned and quickly floundered for something to change the subject with.

“Well this champagne is really good. I uh…I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that tastes this… _expensive.”_ Rhys chuckled his words just beginning to slow with the intake of alcohol.

The young man wasn’t exactly known for being able to hold his drink. There had been many times where Vaughn had to come over and baby his best friend through horrible morning hangovers. But Rhys couldn’t seem to get enough of the golden liquid. It was like fizzing pleasure down his throat and it left his stomach warm and pleasant. Plus it made talking to his very handsome company just that much easier. Rhys found himself stumbling over words less out of nerves and more out of his buzzed state and he’d much rather have it that way.

Timothy chuckled and his voice was breathtaking as it flowed over Rhys’ form gently. God it was just like Jack’s. Rhys was left hopelessly hanging on the other man’s every sound, every syllable.

“You’ll get used to it eventually. I was that way at first too.” Timothy reassured to the lanky man smiling genuinely.

When Timothy smiled there was nothing behind it but honesty. There were no toxins, nor the hint of something wanted. Timothy was not out to gain anything when he smiled to Rhys, unlike Jack. When Jack smiled at Rhys there were gears turning behind the CEO’s eyes, there were things to be had, ideas blooming. When Jack smiled, it was _dangerous._ Honestly the only thing seemingly dangerous about the man named Timothy was the rate in which he had Rhys falling all over himself for him. Rhys was a hopeless mess, presented woefully to the chocolate haired other male.

Timothy reached out to pluck Rhys’ empty glass from the young man’s fingers and his blunt digits brushed over Rhys’ knuckles. The touch was small but the electricity it left coursing through Rhys’ skin was worrying to say the very least. Eyes met for a moment, mirroring and mismatched in nature, and awkward smiles followed close behind.

Champagne was poured into Rhys’ glass and Timothy poured more into his own, pausing to clink the rim of his fine crystal against his counterpart’s.

“Well…cheers to…whatever this is?” Timothy offered chuckling softly.

Rhys giggled in return shaking his head slightly.

“Cheers.” He replied grinning wryly.

Ten o clock quickly turned into midnight and two strangers quickly turned into two boys drunk on far too much expensive champagne, swapping secrets like children at a sleepover. Rhys looked to Tim with slow, half lidded eyes the drink having gone straight to his head, blurring his thoughts and movements and turning his world into an airy, pleasurable place. He hummed against the rim of his glass, lips thin and pink, tipping the fragile glass up and draining it greedily. They had neared the end of the bottle and as one entity came to a conclusion all sorts of other things were just beginning. The laughter that clung to the scattered conversation they had been having died down and Rhys rocked unsteadily back in his stool, utterly content to just look at the gorgeous man keeping him company. It was like having Jack, but not. A gentler, kinder, strange form of Jack that was not at all unpleasant.

“Well I have to say…Jack sure did pick a pretty one…” Timothy spouted off suddenly, still consumed by the remnants of light chuckles.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to catch how embarrassing the words that had come off his tongue were and he back pedaled quickly.

“I-I-I uh…I mean…I mean…well…you are good looking…y-yeah.” Timothy stuttered burying himself in his glass and his eyes hitting the floor shyly the instant the words came tumbling out.

That was one thing about Rhys when he’d had a bit to drink the kid went from bumbling idiot, to the ten foot tall utter essence of confidence in about three seconds flat. He couldn’t really see completely straight, and his legs felt a little like a newborn animal’s, but at least he had the confidence going for him.

“Well thank ya handsome. You’re pretty easy-hic-on the eyes aswellllll…” Rhys sang teetering in his chair slightly and peering over his glass teasingly.

Rhys ran his tongue around the rim of the clear crystal, collecting small droplets of leftover champagne skillfully. Timothy’s eyes widened to the size of dinner platters and Rhys could see the other man’s Adams apple bob as he swallowed thickly. The doppelganger dropped his eyes to the side and let his shoulder fall just slightly.

“Because…because I look like him…that’s why you’re complimenting me.” Timothy said quietly and Rhys felt his stomach nearly drop out of his ass.

He really never thought complimenting someone could be taken as an insult, but he supposed when you were technically praising good looks that originally belonged to someone else…the waters got muddied. Rhys opened his mouth and closed it like a fish gasping for air, fingers shifting uncomfortably on his glass. This was a minor slip-up. Rhys was back on his confidence high in zero flat. Before Rhys could have a prayer of second guessing the action he was hauling himself up out of his seat, getting unsteady feet up underneath him. He sauntered over to his company, throwing his hips the way that had earned him a nasty compliment from Jack on one occasion. He couldn’t remember the CEO’s exact wording but he was pretty sure it was along the line of him having ‘the strut of a high end stripper that tastes too good and costs too much’. Rhys fed off the disgusting compliment running through his head. Drunk on that along with the booze, he leaned his hands on either side of Tim’s barstool, crooning into the brunette’s personal space unabashedly.

“N-no. No. That’s not it. You’re different…than Jack. Jack doesn’t blush when I get too close to him, and Jack doesn’t stutter. You do. I likeeeee that….hic…” Rhys cooed his words thick and heavy with too much drink.

But Rhys seemed to have done his job, drunk or not, he had the other man smiling, a lopsided grin that pulled up the side of his lips gently. It had been a long time since Timothy had heard anybody compliment him on the parts that were not Jack. It felt…nice. Suddenly the two men just stare at each other, both far too drunk to be processing any sort of rational thought, both too new and too strange to each other. But in that split second none of that matters, all that matters is the warm buzzes settled beneath their skins, and the hint of desire glittering in blown pupils. All that matters is the small flutter Timothy feels in his stomach, and the breath that catches in Rhys throat as he looks at the man for just a few moments too long. Before either can come to their senses Timothy’s palms are snapping outward, sliding up Rhys’ slender jaw, cupping it softly and using that hold on him to cram their lips together. Rhys feels the impact of lips sliding together and he freezes for a moment, the initial shock of a very first kiss flooding down his spine. But he settles and then he’s kissing back, just as hard, if not harder. Tim’s hands are forced off Rhys’ jaw as Rhys is practically climbing into the small barstool with the doppelganger. There isn’t enough room for the both of them and they are too heavy. The stool cracks and gives and Tim’s back hits the floor first but there is little mind paid to the fact.

Rhys clambered on top of the thicker male, leaning down over him on all fours, lips never disconnecting even with the fall. Neither one of them is concerned in that moment for the bruises that Tim was most likely going to end up with on his shoulder blades, nor are they concerned about how pissed Jack might be that they’d broken his furniture. All that matters is their mouths pressed together, Tim’s neck crooning upward, big palms grasping around Rhys’ thin frame, nails yanking yellow shirt upward exposing pale flesh. Lips part to tongues and Rhys is all too eager, taking dominance of Tim’s licking up the over the hollows of his cheeks, running over the backs of his teeth. Jack wouldn’t let him have the kiss. Jack never let him have control, and yet this Jack look alike with the kind eyes let him have it all. Rhys was pretty sure he’d never felt more _empowered._ It’s a rush that competes readily with his drunken high. Rhys’ evenly cut nails scape down firm chest, dragging a low, guttural moan that fades into a high whine up from the party beneath him. Jack certainly wouldn’t have been caught dead making those kinds of noises, but somehow it fits Timothy. The sounds coming up from his panting, parted lips are vividly real, let loose and untamed. He doesn’t try to make them sound the way Jack would in the sack. He just sounds like Tim, and Rhys is head over heels for it. The sounds are things Rhys is causing to bubble up from his lungs and it’s almost more than Rhys can handle.

Tim yanks Rhys’ faded yellow T-shirt up over his lanky arms and Rhys lets it go willingly, his head getting stuck in the collar slightly before it comes loose. Rhys flings it to the hardwood floor and instantly calloused palms are running the length of him, desperate to touch, to feel, to grasp. Tim’s hands aren’t the hands of a billionaire CEO. Tim’s hands are the hands of a Vault Hunter. Tim’s hands are the hands of a man that can reload an SMG in seconds flat and hold onto a rocket launcher like it’s a pea shooter. Tim’s hands are gentle but they are the hands of a man who doesn’t sit behind a computer screen all day. Somehow this is more exhilarating to Rhys than he’d really bargained for. He’s about to _fuck_ a Vault Hunter. That has a nice ring to it.

Tim’s lips find Rhys’ neck frantically, his tongue extending to run trails along the young man’s tattoos running down the left side of his throat.

“I like your tattoos.” Timothy husks and it’s a mere whisper on Rhys’ ears.

Rhys just grins and settles his weight onto Tim’s hips, but the distressed look on the other man’s face tells him something is wrong. Tim grimaces and shifts.

“The stool pieces are digging into my butt.” Tim complains almost in a whiny voice and Rhys giggles stupidly.

Rhys slinks off of Tim’s panting form and offers a shaking hand to help the other man up. Tim grabs it, then takes more from the offered palm, using it to tug Rhys into his grip once more, the two of them teetering on unstable legs, grabbing and kissing, panting into each other hotly.

Then Tim is hauling Rhys up into his grip and he’s stronger than he looks. Honestly if this kid and Jack ever were to duke it out Rhys would have his money on Tim as far as brute strength went, though Jack would definitely have him beat in the ruthless, bloodthirsty killer instincts category. Rhys’ ankles loop around Tim’s waist and his fingers run up through perfectly coiffed locks. Tim proceeds to shove the young man down onto the billiard table laying center of the room and Rhys lets loose of a strained expel of breath as he hits hard. Tim is crawling up over him but that doesn’t last long, before the doppelganger can get steady Rhys is forcing him to the bottom, knees sliding over felt harshly, hands tangling in wild hair roughly. The way they move against each other is rough in a different way than what Rhys is used to. Jack is all give and no take, Tim is a slight bit of both. Tim lets Rhys take the lead and he seems so very willing to see what Rhys might do next. Tim’s eagerness to simply have Rhys and everything that he is has the young man melting into absolute puddles. Rhys leans over the gruffer man and he is all kisses and tongue. His lithe anatomy slides down the thrum of Tim’s pulse and the other man hisses out at the contact. Tim’s hips leave the pool table and press up into Rhys’ weight. Rhys only groans drunkenly against the contact. Tim’s chest is peppered with coarse brown hairs spreading thinly out over his pecks, the hairs beginning once more at his stomach then running below his beltline. Rhys wouldn’t admit out loud how much the subtle trails of body hair turned him one, but it became painfully obvious as his fingers played through Tim’s masculine treasure trail. Tim’s teeth bury his bottom lip and worry it red as he tries to bite back obscene moans fruitlessly. The sounds still slip through his teeth and dance over Rhys’ senses.

It’s good.

Really good.

Tim tastes as expensive as he looks and Rhys is just swallowing him whole. It brings him back to his very first time with Jack and this has the same feel only dare Rhys say it was more… _intense._ Intense because Rhys can push and pull just as much as Tim does and their kisses feel different and their hands buried in each other’s hair aren’t mean and vicious…they are playful and _wanting._

“O-Oh my god…y-you are so gorgeous…” Tim pants into Rhys’s neck his voice ragged and strained.

Rhys grins into the skin just below Tim’s ear, right where the jawbone meets and with that he sits back, putting his weight onto Tim’s pelvis, tilting his head to the side tauntingly.

“Am I?” Rhys coos lazily, his tongue too fat for his mouth and all his movements too slow.

Tim nods frantically, eyes half lidded and mouth hanging in a slow, weak, oval.

“Y-Y-Yes…you’re so perfect…” Tim whispers almost in a drugged daze.

Rhys feels his ego swell with the compliments and he only grins wider, eating up the compliments like fine food. Rhys looks down Tim’s heaving body, his glittering eyes mean and devious. Rhys splays his thin palms out over Timothy’s stomach and the doppelganger twitches at the touch. Rhys’ metal hand is viciously cold and he whines at the metal touching with skin.

“S-Shit that’s really cold…” Tim whines breathlessly.

Rhys only cocks a silly ‘almost confident but not quite’ smile in response.

Rhys then moves his digits to the doppelganger’s nipple, rolling the little bud lazily, getting a loud gasp and a whine from the bigger man. Now Tim could fully understand why in the world Jack had latched onto such an awkward, lanky, Hyperion underling. The kid was a fucking natural. Tim was more than willing to lay back and let the other man do what he would with him. No wonder Jack talked so highly of him. Now Jack wasn’t a man that had made a living off of good ideas…but bringing this gorgeous, lanky firecracker of a man into their relationship was a good idea. A _very_ good idea as Tim was deciding on spot. The cold metal of Rhys’ fingers moves from one nipple to the other, leaving both perfect little buds erect and vicious.

With that Rhys’ eyes swim over the man pinned beneath his hips.

There’s a thick, taught line pressed flush against the doppelganger’s over worn, baggy sweatpants and it gives everything about Tim’s arousal away shamelessly. Rhys pants out into the overly warm air slowly and gently slides his human palm down over his partner’s clothed erection. Tim moans out loudly and bucks his hips up into Rhys’ touch, desperately wanting more from the young man’s hand. Rhys bites his lip in anticipation as his slender fingers slide down the thick want. Rhys is pretty sure he hears Tim pant out an airless whisper of ‘ _please’_ but he isn’t positive. Regardless he takes the initiative to begin stripping the tattered sweatpants down over the other man’s powerful thighs. The hem slides down exposing inch after inch of thick, coarse dark brown hair, then finally the base of Tim’s cock. Rhys tugs a little more and allows the doppelganger to come free from the clothing, his thick erection springing free, standing at full mast, already red and dripping for the young man. Rhys grins at the other man’s disheveled state and quickly frees himself of his clothing to match.

Rhys sits spread over Tim blatantly fisting his own cock in his fleshed palm and giving it several long, slow, strokes. Tim can only watch with star struck eyes as the young man works himself. It’s a little selfish in nature, but in the same sense Tim doesn’t mind to just watch him do it…because he looks so fucking _hot_.

Tim’s bigger than Rhys, made to match Jack in every way…including _that_ way, but Rhys is pretty. He’s long and curved, and pretty. Tim had never really considered the word pretty would be something he’d be using to describe someone’s cock…but Rhys was pretty. In every sense of the word, from his forehead down to his toes, he was so fucking pretty.

Rhys looks down to Tim with languid eyes, large, innocent and needy as he opens his mouth to ask the question of the hour, _where does Jack keep lube?_ Tim points to the small drawer behind the bar and then Rhys is gone, returning only when he’s got a small clear bottle in hand. Rhys scrambles up over the billiard table, cock bobbing with every movement and he settles himself back over Tim’s thighs like a king to his throne. Rhys is looking to Tim with half-lidded, gorgeous earth and sky eyes as he lifts and applies lubricant to his puckered back entrance. Slim human fingers pass his tight ring, one, then two, finally three as he works himself open all for Tim to see. It’s a show that Tim never knew he needed in his life until that very second, and now he’s hanging onto Rhys’ every motion with baited breath. His chest heaves, his eyes lazy as he watches slack jawed. Rhys is so gorgeous when he moves, pale and slender and fucking perfect.

Tim’s big palms slide up the jut of Rhys’ hipbones, thumbs pressing into the divots of the bone and Rhys croons forward, cock flexing freely before him. Tim whines and bucks upward a little, rubbing the tip of his angry cock along the crack of Rhys’ cheeks, skin on skin pleasant and overwhelming. There’s another ‘please’ that comes out from Tim’s lungs this time louder and more audible. Rhys complies more than willingly. He has to admit he likes a man with manners. He was pretty sure the word ‘please’ had never even so much as touched Handsome Jack’s lips. Jack didn’t say please. Jack said _now._

Rhys curls warm fingers around Tim’s thick base and he takes a moment to appreciate that the Jack and the doppelganger are even the same in that aspect. Jack had sure put a lot of detail into the perfect little body double. Not that Rhys was complaining.

Then the young man is pressing Tim’s blunt head against his back entrance, the tight flesh opening slowly to take the throbbing cock. Tim gasps, and it’s a needy, wanting, beautiful sound. When his head fits snugly inside he, full on moans. When Rhys adds several slow inches Tim is practically melting, consumed in loud, breathless moans, knees twitching upward, hands gripping Rhys’ hips hard. Rhys arches and grits his teeth as Tim bottoms out and he can feel his balls pressed flush to the young man’s pert ass. Tim stutters compliments that are only appropriate in the bedroom that follow along the lines of ‘your ass is so fucking tight’.

Rhys flutters and pulsates around the big intrusion, the lovely feeling of being _full_ washing over him in ropes of warm sensations. He rolls his hips forward, body lithe and limber, coming up on Tim’s cock then sinking back down painfully slowly. Tim swears he sees stars and he has to do everything in his power not to just cum right there. His cock threatens to do so as it twitches and flexes within the tight space of Rhys’ ass. Tim clutches Rhys’ thighs and looks to him with big pleading eyes.

“G-Go slow….or I-I’m afraid I’m gunna finish really fast…” Tim whispers almost in embarrassment but Rhys takes it as a compliment.

Rhys sits still for a moment, taking to opportunity to lean down and press his warm lips to Tim’s once more. Tim seems more than willing to welcome the kid in, strong arms looping around Rhys’ thin frame, lips coming open as tongues tease together. Rhys moans into Tim’s mouth as his cock presses into Tim’s hard abdomen, fat bead of pre-cum smearing into dark brown hairs. Tim’s fingers part through Rhys’ wavy locks gently. Rhys half expects the mean pull that would come from Jack’s own fingers, but it never happens. The touch stays gentle and pleasant, finger pads running over the nape of Rhys’ neck, then down his shoulders, touching the scarred flesh where Rhys’ mechanical arm meets with flesh and bone. Tim lingers there for a moment, breaking the kiss to gasp for breath, then lean up to touch his lips to the old wound. Rhys sighs and rocks his hips as Tim lays down pampering kisses to his old surgery scars. Tim looks up to Rhys with slatted eyes and Rhys is captivated just by the way he… _looks._ His hair is a wreck, falling in wisps over his forehead, his sharp cheekbones are painted pathetically red, and small beads of perspiration prick at his hairline.

Tim cringes when Rhys leans up again, arms running drunkenly up through his hair as he rocks skillfully over Tim’s hips, thrusting his fat cock into him, keeping Tim’s begged for slow pace. Rhys’ ribs jut from his skin as he arches backward with catlike grace.

 _He’s so…flexible,_ Tim thinks lethargically, eyes almost closed.

Rhys is lost in the ecstasy of having the perfect man inside of him, muscles clenching and twitching as he angles him right into his prostate, his cock dripping more pre down onto Tim’s stomach shamelessly. Tim takes the initiative to reach forward and curl his palm around Rhys’ livid rock, getting a breathless moan from the pretty young man. The doppelganger strokes with a fluid wrist, flicking upward, skin bundling in his fist with every upstroke. Rhys is twitching forward into each stroke, eyes closed, cheeks vibrant pink, hands clenched into fists in his own hair.

“T-Timothy!!!” Rhys moans so loud his voice echoes off the walls.

The name is foreign and strange on his tongue, but it feels so damned _right._ Tim all but melts as the young man cries his name with such utter need. He pumps his hips up into the writhing man, eager and strong.

The two drunken men are too wrapped up in each other to ever hear the front door to the condo come open, nor do they hear the tap of fine leather boots in the hall. There’s too much kissing and panting and touching and _fucking_ for them to actually ever realize that there are eyes suddenly trained on the two of them from the open doorway. Glittering mismatched eyes play over the scene before them. Two pretty men, sweat glistening in the low lamp light, sprawled out over the billiard table fucking like their lives depended upon it. Thin lips twitch up into a viciously pleased smile and strong arms cross over a thin chest.

Suddenly someone clears their throat from the doorway and Rhys for a moment thinks he imagined it, but when his lazy eyes flick up to the doorframe he instantly knows it was all too real.

Handsome Jack stands lazily leaned on the doorway, arms folded, head cocked to the side, grinning like a little kid on Christmas that came downstairs only to find that Santa had brought him _exactly_ what he’d wanted. Rhys gasps and stills instantly, cock bobbing before him, still spread obscenely over Jack’s pretty doppelganger.

Caught red handed was the first thought that seemed to swim into Rhys' mind. Tim croons his neck backwards to see what Rhys is looking at and he makes a weak, terrified sound in his throat when his eyes find the man now watching them with interested eyes.

Jack chuckles low and dangerous.

“Well, well, well…looks like you two are just getting along _swimmingly_ aren’t ya kiddos?” Jack coos sensually running the sharp of his tongue across his top lip.


	4. Daddy's Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daddy kink and threesomes, all part of a healthy balanced breakfast my loves. <3

Daddy’s boys

“J-Jack s-sir…I…uh…I…” Timothy stuttered looking frantically to the pretty man still straddled atop him, then to his very amused boss.

Rhys stayed still, unsure of what action to take next. Rhys was caught between wanting to hop off Timothy and frantically scramble to get his clothing back on, or wanting to act like the CEO of Hyperion was _not_ standing in the door and simply continue like nothing was wrong. Rhys suddenly felt like the ‘other man’. The one that had come on in while the husband was away and fucked the wife only to get caught in the very act of it all, like one of those stupid drama shows on daytime Helios television.

But the look painted so vibrantly across Jack’s face wasn’t exactly…angry…no, his eyes were glittering with something much closer to pure _interest_. The kind of look a big game hunter might get after tracking all day having seen nothing, only to have the biggest most beautiful trophy buck walk right into his sights just before the sun goes down. The kind of look that comes just before the trigger is pulled, just before the prey is claimed. The smile smeared across Jack’s thin lips was absolutely nothing less than _predatory._ And oh had the hunter hit the jackpot on this one, two weak and defenseless prey animals just _waiting_ for him to devour them. All wrapped up in a pretty little to go box, ready for consuming…and oh was he ever _hungry._

Jack clapped his hands together loudly, causing both boys to jump slightly and the CEO chuckled heartily, strolling lazily into the belly of the room and directing himself straight to the massive bar. Jack plucked a small glass off the wall and gently palmed a large bottle of whiskey, pausing only when he seemed to realize both men were still staring at him in confusion. Jack rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed out loudly.

“Well? By all means kiddos don’t stop on account of me!! Just act like I’m not even here, papa’s in the mood for a good show.” Jack near snarled as he dropped a couple of perfect little ice cubes into his glass and poured a plentiful amount of amber liquid over them.

Rhys was jolted out of his utterly confused state by the hard jolt of Tim’s hips jarring up into him. Rhys let loose of a breathless sound and looked down at his partner, who in return was flashing Rhys a brilliant, playful grin.

“He gave us an order pumpkin.” Timothy husked, voice threatening to shake, but he managed to keep it even enough to sound somewhat demanding.

Rhys smiled down at Timothy and with that big, warm palms were sliding up Rhys’ torso once more, touching greedily, hips twitching upward begging for movement desperately. Rhys groaned out lowly and began to gently ease Tim in and out of his fluttering entrance once more, finding hold on a decent pace after being so rudely interrupted. It wasn’t hard to fall back into the deed at hand, but what _was_ hard was trying to ignore the vicious gaze trained on them from across the room. Rhys looked sideways mid thrust, keeping track of Jack’s slow movements out of the corner of his eye. Tim’s fingers reached up to curl in amber waves and very gently pulled Rhys down until their lips were colliding. Rhys’ eyes slid closed and suddenly it didn’t matter that Jack was _watching_ them. All that mattered was the full feeling curling through his body like warm waves, and the wanting lips pressed so hungrily into his. All that mattered was the two men’s hearts beating together like off rhythm drums and the heat pressed between them melting the two into each other. Rhys moaned into Tim’s lips, the sound coming across muffled and needy. Rhys bore backward, sinking all of Tim into his body, clenching around Tim’s hardness involuntarily. Tim gasped out loudly, breaking the frantic kiss, hands still knotted in Rhys’ wild hair carelessly. Rhys took the opportunity to kiss down Tim’s jaw, his eyes half lidded feeling so very heavy with the onset of pleasure. He felt warm from the roots of his hair down to his curled toes, everything so unbearably hot, breaths hot, bodies hot, and hands hot. Everything was just so unbelievably hot.

Jack sauntered across the room, pausing before one of the large plush chairs arranged around the billiard table. He set his glass and the bottle down on the redwood table with a small clunk and slowly shrugged out of his jacket, letting the expensive material slide down over broad shoulders. Jack went about peeling out of his layers until all that was left was his Hyperion yellow sweatshirt, the familiar material clinging to his body fittingly. The older man eased himself down into the luxurious chair, the cushion giving with his weight, contorting to his body invitingly. Jack toed his boots off in an obviously practiced fashion, hard, heavy soles hitting wood floor with two loud thuds. The powerful man groaned out as he propped both his legs up onto the ottoman in front of him, waggling his toes still covered by black dress socks. He slumped slightly in the easy chair, body unwinding, a sound of utter relaxation spilling off his lips as he reached for his drink, tipped it to his mouth and then deviously let his eyes settle on the quite interesting scene splayed out before him.

Rhys bucked backward, body graceful, lithe, pale, _thin._ Jack smirked as he lingered for a moment on the physical aspects of the young, lanky man currently riding his prized doppelganger like a god damned thoroughbred. Jack took another long, slow draw on his drink, humming into the burn that slid down his throat and pooled heavy in his gut. Just as Jack took the drink from his lips the young man’s voice rang out through the room, an utterly pitiful sound that kissed at Jack’s ears like some long lost lover. Damn he loved _that_ sound. Jack had to admit he was quite the sucker for the way that gangly kid managed to move that pretty little body of his. Jack had only witnessed it all first hand, watching the kid squirm and writhe while beneath him…but it was something else entirely to watch him buck and ride someone _else._ So this is what they looked like when they fucked? Jack’s mouth twitched up into a dangerous grin. He wasn’t disappointed that was for damn sure. Better than watching himself fuck Rhys in any full length mirror. This way Jack could see _every_ angle. Being a spectator to such an event was exactly what he’d needed to unwind after a particularly trying day. Better than any trash late night television that was on at this hour, better than any porn he could have possibly come up with. No, this was better. This was _perfect._

Tim’s palms anchored to Rhys’ thin hips, his eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open weak and helpless as the young man ground down onto his fat erection.

“R-Rhys!! Ah AH!!” Tim groaned his voice rough as a new sheet of sandpaper.

Jack ran his tongue around the rim of his glass, clicking his teeth together around the hard edge absentmindedly as he observed with the upmost enthrallment.

“Oooo Timmy baby that’s good stuff. Say his name again pumpkin, louder so daddy can hear.” Jack husked cracking his neck to the side languidly, eyes never leaving his pretty little pets.

Tim’s eyes lazily flicked to Jack’s seated position, mouth hanging slack, fingers clenching tighter on Rhys’ hipbones.

“Rhys! R-RHYS!! Oooohh Rhys!!” Tim moaned louder his hips leaving the billiard table to pump up into Rhys’ feverishly.

Rhys braced his hands against Tim’s heaving chest, pushing backward to meet with Tim’s eager thrusts. A hot expel of breath poured through Rhys’ flared nostrils, his heart thundering beneath muscle and bone, blood pounding in his ears. His abandoned cock bounced with the movement, livid and ready for attention. As if on cue Tim’s left hand came to curl swiftly around Rhys’ angry erection, stroking up him in time with their hurried thrusts.

Jack crooned his head back slightly, elongating his spine in a satisfying stretch before clicking his tongue disapprovingly at the doppelganger’s advances.

“Leave him be cupcake. Daddy’s wants to watch him squirm.” Jack snarled his voice low and warning as it vibrated off his ribs.

Timothy grinned widely up at Rhys, who in return only pushed his eyebrows together in an utterly pitiful fashion. Rhys turned to look at Jack, who was so elegantly lounged across the heavy furniture. In Rhys’ state he damn sure wasn’t above begging, and god did he need it, god was he going to beg.

“J-Jack _please…”_ Rhys sighed pitifully, huffing the words out with a gracious amount of strain.

Jack tilted his head to the side playfully. He looked like a cat toying with a little mouse, the small creatures tail all laced between his fangs. He was dangling the reward of orgasm in front of Rhys meanly and Rhys was all too familiar with this game. Only he wasn’t really in the mood to participate in this little charade of Jack’s. He just wanted to _cum._ Tim felt so good within him and everything was simply too exhilarating and _real._ Every motion, every touch of fingers, every puff of breath along his skin, it was setting fire to him and he was burning down quicker than he could fathom.

“Jack? Huh, don’t know of this _Jack_ you speak of pumpkin.” Jack chuckled over the rim of his glass devilishly.

Was this some new rule to the game that Rhys had missed? Rhys was pretty sure he was near master of Jack’s little board games and yet here he was pulling a card with instructions he was not familiar with. Rhys floundered for a moment, looking to Jack then down to Tim searching for answers in their mirroring faces .

Tim leaned up slowly, arms wrapping around Rhys’ slender frame, big digits running up every jut of his spine. Tim pressed warm lips to the shell of his ear and breathed out slowly, getting a weak little shiver out of the piteous young man.

“Call him Daddy.” Tim whispered to Rhys in almost a cooing fashion, pampering a slow kiss to Rhys’ sideburn.

Rhys’ breath caught in his throat for a second, swallowing suddenly feeling nearly impossible as his fingers gripped into Tim’s shoulders. Rhys was caught in-between the pulls of being slightly unnerved, and undeniably turned on. It was a wonky feeling that left a squirm right beneath the first layer of his flesh. Calling Jack _daddy?_

“D-DaDDY?” Rhys wasn’t really sure if it was a full question as it dropped from his lips, the syllables morphing into a high moan as Tim pressed up into him greedily, successfully finding the tight bundle of nerves deep within him.

Rhys shuddered and rocked against Tim’s lap, silently chewing over the name, working it through his teeth and pondering on the leftover flavor it placed in his mouth. It wasn’t bad. A little salty maybe, a little strange with the newness of it all…maybe he should test it out again.

“ _Daddy…”_ Rhys tries the name once again speaking it the way he’d utter some dirty word.

It sends shivers down through his spine, jolting through him like electricity.

“DADDY!” Rhys groans it out, letting it loose with the full power it was intended for.

“Daddy please!!” Rhys moans out in rapid succession.

Jack prickles at the sound of the word coming off his pretty, brand spankin’ new little pet’s tongue. It sounds better than he ever could have fathomed. It’s good. So good.

Jack outwardly groans and his hips leave the seat just slightly, the older man shifting his weight a bit as he lets the words wash over him like silk ribbon.

“Fuck that is _good_ kitten.” Jack sneers his eyelids hooding over glistening orbs gently.

Rhys huffs into Tim’s neck, feeling so weak and helpless against the doppelganger as Tim takes the wheel from him gently. Rhys is too far gone to keep up his eager pace that he’d started with. He’s so aroused and everything is so sensitive. Rhys writhes at the fact that Jack completely ignored his begging and did not even acknowledge the question at hand.

“Daddy _please, please, PLEASE!?_ I-I need it so _badly.”_ Rhys beseeched, throwing the extra ‘pleases’ in for good measure.

Rhys’ cock throbs against Tim’s stomach, begging for the attention that it is being starved of. Rhys cringes as Tim bucks into him and he’s so hard and so strong and Rhys is just butter in his arms.

Jack seems to glow with amusement at the young man’s begging, soaking it in through glinting teeth and heterochromatic eyes. Jack spaces out his thumb and forefinger, gently massaging the digits over his square jaw as if pondering the request but Rhys can already see the answer in the powerful man’s eyes.

“I mean, A plus for trying kiddo. You have got one good beggin’ mouth on ya that is for damned sure, but Daddy isn’t done with you kitten. So you just be a good little slut and _no cumming.”_ Jack hisses his mouth curled up into a twisted smile.

Rhys makes a pitifully protestant sound and Jack’s eyes instantaneously go dark.

“What was that cupcake? Are you trying to _defy_ Daddy?” Jack asks and there is something wicked lurking in his voice.

A wickedness that Rhys doesn’t dare question.

“No Daddy.” Rhys breathes looking to Jack with a completely submissive expression that Jack eagerly swallows up.

“There’s my good little pet.” Jack praises his words oozing with bad intention.

Rhys hisses at the name as it slides through Jack’s teeth. In a setting such as this it leaves Rhys feeling something radically different than the emotion it laid on him while he stood so unsurely in front of Jack’s desk. It feels so _dirty_ here. It feels so… _good._

“ _I’m a good pet…”_ Rhys whispers softly, parroting the phrase fondly, simply holding onto Tim in desperation as the doppelganger forced up into him.

“Such a good pet.” Timothy moans back and Rhys wants to feel sick with how eerie it is to hear them both talk in the same setting, but all he can possibly manage is to feel deep, utter arousal.

It’s like a dream, the kind that Rhys would never admit to having, the kind that wake him up in the middle of the night sweaty and panting and weirdly _satisfied._ Only it is real and Rhys can touch them and hear them and it is so much better than his late night fantasies. Rhys presses his face into the crook of Tim’s neck and he feels so utterly helpless, need curling through his body like warm serpents, twisting up through his every nerve.

Jack rocks his drink back and forth in big fingers, ice gently clinking together, amber liquid swirling around in the small glass. He drains what is left in one eager swallow and he helps himself to another drink, pouring a healthy amount into the clear crystal. Jack slowly takes his feet from the ottoman laid out before him and sits spread wide and proud in his stupidly expensive seat.

“Tim, sweetheart, why don’t you bring him over here and fuck him so Daddy can see better.” Jack snarls and it is not a suggestion.

Tim swings Rhys like he weighs nothing, hauling him off the billiard table gracefully. Rhys goes, not caring where he is being taken, just as long as Tim is there, still filling him, still giving him such utter pleasure.

Jack gestures toward the ottoman gently with his chin, fingers rapping on the taught leather of the deep chair. Tim takes a moment to pull from Rhys’ body and shoves the young man over the ottoman not quite hard enough to be considered rough. Rhys’ belly lays over the square piece of furniture, folding his elbows as he rests his chin on them, his ass dangling obscenely in the air for a moment before he feels Tim push back into him with one swift thrust of his hips. Rhys groans out long and low at the feeling of being re-filled and then Tim is finding his steady pace once more. Rhys buries his perfect bottom lip between his teeth, air coming loudly through his nose as he looks to the dangerous man sitting so eagerly before him. Jack props one foot up on Rhys’ shoulder, toes rubbing into the muscle gently as Jack moves and Rhys is confused by the almost loving nature of the gesture. Rhys sighs into Tim at his back and Jack at his front and it is wondrous in ways he never knew he needed. Jack’s dress socks smell like leather and lavender laundry detergent and Rhys moans as he hangs his arms over the side of the ottoman shifting slightly and arching his back end up lithely.

Jack seems to be pondering the situation as he tilts his drink to his thin lips and drinks to the situation, as if toasting a wonderful idea to have two pets instead of just one. Rhys is the extra seasoning to a dish already perfect, just needed a bit more of _something else._ Now Jack was sitting on a meal fit for a king, three perfect parts and oh he couldn’t praise himself enough for this. He was a fucking genius.

Jack’s eyes drawled to Rhys’ perfect little ass, moving with every one of Tim’s heavy thrusts.

“Give him a lil swat baby.” Jack huffed out and Rhys’ eyes shift up to Jack curiously.

Tim suddenly brings the flat of his large palm down across Rhys’ pale ass cheek, leaving a paint of red in its wake. Rhys cried out in half surprise half offense and he looked back to Tim. Tim smiled at him gently, eyes full of lust, hair out of place, body never stilling. The doppelganger soothed the struck skin and Rhys hummed into the leather furniture at as he rested his chin on it and let the hollow sting of the hit soak down into his muscle. It didn’t really hurt, it felt… _exhilarating_.

“ _Again…”_ Rhys manages to pant out between broken, rattling breaths.

“Ask nicely.” Jack scolds frowning playfully down at the wrecked young man.

 _“Please...”_ Rhys tacks the word on breathlessly and Tim is already halfway through another swat.

Rhys lurches forward, the smack reverberating through him like a shock to his bones. All he can possibly manage to do is moan, fingers gripped harshly into the leather beneath him, and ask for _more._

And Tim gives it to him, willing to please the young man before him so readily. Tim smiles down at Rhys’ reddened cheeks, lucid and crimson in nature. Jack suddenly leans forward and curls talented fingers around Rhys’ sharp chin, tilting his head back slightly, forcing their eyes to meet. Jack’s grin sends cold twists through Rhys’ form as he soaks it in.

“Now pet what do you say?” Jack tuts softly.

“T-Thank you…” Rhys whispers his eyes barely open, his cheeks embarrassingly flushed.

Jack lets loose of his chin and leans back into his billowing chair, crotch rising slightly as he settles back into it and Rhys is suddenly aware of just how _hard_ the CEO is. The thick line of his cock is framed against the tight space of his jeans giving away his arousal shamelessly. Jack allows one big hand to slide down himself and Rhys can only watch as his fingers sift over his yellow sweater shirt, touching generously, golden rings catching the low light in the room as they descended downward. Finally he slides his palm down between his parted thighs, bringing a guttural moan right up from the depths of his broad chest. Rhys’ mouth hangs open slightly as he watches the powerful man roll his fingers over the taught line of his dick. It is quite the thing to see, Handsome Jack getting so hot and bothered without so much as being _touched._ It offers Rhys a sick little sense of satisfaction for a moment, but the feeling doesn’t last long as his cock throbs against the side of the ottoman weakly, reminding him of his painfully needy state. Rhys screws his eyes shut and lets go of the obscene noise stored up in his throat, the sound coming out as an embarrassing whine.

There is the sound of a zipper being drawn down and Rhys manages to barely part his lids, watching lazily as Jack undoes the front of his jeans on handed, never putting his drink down. Fingers work buttons apart and peel his fly open, hips lifting as he shoves the material down, taking black boxer briefs with it. Finally Jack’s jeans are around his ankles and he is proceeding to slide out of them completely, taking a moment to pluck his dress socks off and finally he settles his drink down only momentarily to get free of his shirt.

Jack flops back into the chair with a big, easy sigh and clasps his fingers around his drink once more. Rhys can only stare at his masculine form, light brunette hairs dusting over a wide chest, well toned abdomen heaving slightly with all the arousal floating around the room. The Hyperion overlord’s cock stands at full mast, thick and ready, head deep crimson and slick.

Rhys makes a muffled whimper and runs the sharp of his tongue over his lips slowly. The motion is hungry, and Jack knows exactly what the kid is in the mood for.

“You want daddy’s big, _thick_ cock huh pet?” Jack asks lazily leaning backward hand coming to pump around his shaft in slow, languid strokes from base to tip.

Rhys can only manage to watch as Jack fists himself, head jutting up through curled ring of fingers with the down stroke. Jack groaned out thick and heavy as his dick flexed against his palm, sack shifting to pull close to his body. Those rosy lips before him were just _begging_ for his cock.

Rhys nods slowly, trying desperately to form the words but failing miserably.

Jack snaps his fingers and Tim drags Rhys upward for a moment, just long enough for Jack to shove the ottoman aside. Tim pushes Rhys forward and the young man had no choice but to brace against Jack’s open legs. Rhys huffs out, eyes trailing up to the fat cock standing so proud and livid before him. He doesn’t pause, he wants it too fiercely. Rhys extends his neck forward, the wet of his tongue running slow and thick up the underside of Jack’s ready cock, dragging a loud, gruff moan up from the CEO. Jack’s fingers curl not so gently into Rhys’ locks as he takes his head into his lips, lapping and sucking, dancing circles around the hot, velvet flesh enthusiastically. Rhys drops his mouth a few inches, then pulls back, repeating the motion quick and steady, taking more of Jack with each descent. Jack’s mean palm forces Rhys all the way down, shoving back down into his throat successfully getting a desperate gag from the young man. Jack holds him there, grinding the young man’s nose into his coarse brown hairs for a moment before letting him up for air. Rhys coughs and gasps for breath, a heavy trail of saliva sliding down his chin.

“Again.” Jack snarls and Rhys is going down for more, Jack’s thick cock hitting the back of his throat causing him to shudder and choke.

Just as Rhys comes up to breathe once more Tim’s hands tighten around his hips desperately.

“D-Daddy I-I-m gunna cum!” Tim groans out frantically.

Jack just sneers down at Rhys, then Tim, softly patting Rhys’ cheek as the young man laps at his tip gently.

“That’s it pet, you fill him up nice and good. Gotta break in the new edition you know.” Jack chuckles lowly, his thumb coming to press against the curve of Rhys’ abused lips.

Rhys looks up to the CEO wantonly, eyes sparkling with absolute pleasure as Tim ruts into him mercilessly. Rhys feels his head bumping against his prostate and he has to do everything in his power not to lose control and cum shamelessly onto the floor. Even though he wants to. He wants to so badly. Tim’s voice runs along the back of Rhys’ spine, causing the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand on end. The young man shivers and presses backward into Tim’s hard thrusts, ragged sounds of utter ecstasy ripping up through Tim’s lips. Fingers scrape at Rhys’ hips and the wet slap of bodies reverberated through his ears, everything just seemed to be in fast motion, hot and mean and _rough._

Tim is praying breaths that carry a combination of Rhys name and curses and he is there. Hips press flush to Rhys’ buttocks, stilling their movement and he can feel Tim swell within him for a moment, then there is the wet rush as Tim spends himself inside of him. Rhys shudders and groans against the feeling of Tim finishing within him, the doppelgangers hips giving a couple of weak, halfhearted thrusts as he rides out his orgasm. Rhys can hear Tim panting behind him and it is an absolutely exhausted, pleased sound as it wrings out of his lungs. Tim curls big arms around Rhys’ frame, leaning forward to lay a gentle kiss on the back of Rhys’ neck, getting an appreciative sigh from the younger partner.

Rhys looks to Jack, the CEO looking past him and he knows he is observing Tim with absolute praise. There is some sick pride fluttering behind glossy eyes. Rhys isn’t exactly sure how it all happens but in a split second Jack is standing and Tim is easing out of him ever so gently, softening cock pulling from tight space with an utterly obscene sound.

Jack snarls a very pointed _‘clench nice and tight pumpkin, I don’t want a drop leaving that pretty ass of yours’_ against Rhys’ mouth and Rhys obeys, tightening the muscles of his anus as best he can. There’s the swing of legs and the slap of a bare back against the chair Jack had been occupying only moments before. Jack grabs Rhys’ thighs in his palms, squeezing harshly and propping the young man open for his viewing pleasure. There is a push of hips, a grunt of pleasure and Jack buries himself into Rhys’ puckered back entrance, using the leftovers of Tim’s finish as lubrication for himself. Rhys cries out and bucks up, arms folding up behind the back rest of the chair, body thin and agile beneath Jack’s bigger frame. Jack was all powerful thrusts and scraping fingernails, body moving slick and insistent. Rhys’ cock bobs pathetically before him, head red and wet, a fat bead of pre weeping slowly down his underside with all the pressure to his over stimulated ass. Rhys flutters open and raw around Jack’s girth, already abused from one go round a second is leaving him absolutely derelict.

Rhys buries his chin in the thrum of Jack’s throat, feeling the older man swallow harshly his Adams apple bobbing against the taught flesh. He’s panting and grunting roughly, hands frantic and heart racing, giving whatever energy he’d had left after the long day into absolutely _wrecking_ his pretty little new pet. Rhys leans his head back and slits his eyes as he suddenly feels the press of lips against his cheek, lips that don’t belong to Jack.

Tim croons over the back of the big chair and gently runs adoring kisses down the jut of Rhys’ cheekbone. Rhys leans into the touch, gasping and groaning, caught between pleasure that is hard and pleasure that is gentle. Like two sides to the coin, Jack is all power and Tim is all love. So very much alike and yet so very much different.

Jack fucks into Rhys, thrusts solid and unforgiving. Brunette locks once so perfectly coiffed now fall in sad wisps over his masked face, his eyebrows shoved together in an expression that is all pleasure. Jack comes with a shout and a string of loud curses, cock throbbing and jumping in the taut space provided. Rhys moans and pants into Tim’s lips as the feeling of Jack filling him floods through him. He feels so utterly wet and _full._ Jack huffs into the air, body finished and muscles tired, erection wilting slowly. Jack grins tiredly down at the still writhing young man beneath him and slowly pulls from his body, puckered flesh rendered red and livid from all the friction. When Jack comes loose so does most of what was emptied into Rhys’ entrance, oozing from him languidly, pooling down onto the leather chair slickly. Rhys whines and whimpers, so hard and needy he’s pretty sure he could just break into tears. He needs it so damned badly.

Jack falls boneless and spent into the nearest chair.

“Finish him up would ya baby?” Jack coos to Timothy and the doppelganger is instantly in motion.

Jack watches through tired slits as Tim swoops in to finally finish what had been started. The doppelganger kneels before Rhys readily, fingers gently pushing back into his tight ring of muscle, curling into a beckoning motion, diligently stroking over the tender flesh of his prostate. Rhys leans his head back breathlessly mouth agape and hips rocking down onto Tim’s fingers. Timothy’s soft lips clasp gently around Rhys’ head, slickly taking several more inches in one swift motion. Talented tongue laps circles around his desperately hard flesh and Rhys all but sees stars as he arches and moans voice echoing off the walls of the room around them. Everything within Rhys floods with an overwhelming warmth that rolls down his lower abdomen like a tidal wave, spreading vicious shivers down through the tense flesh. He throws back his head no sound coming from his open lips, eyes shut tight and hips lifting to Tim’s talented mouth. Tim bobs his head quickly, lips providing just enough suction and with that he pulls a hard orgasm right out of the young man beneath him. Rhys comes in a flurry of sensations that roll over his body viciously. Cries erupting loud and unbridled, hands fisting in Tim’s utterly disheveled locks, he comes so _hard._ Rhys can’t seem to form words or thoughts, everything just twisting together in a whirlwind of pleasure and he is pretty sure he’s never felt anything more vivid in all of his life. Tim swallows all that he has to give, eagerly, hungrily and all Rhys can do is whimper against the feeling.

Rhys leans back into the chair, panting and weak, every muscle in his body feeling overworked and overused. He feels so _pleasured._ He’d always thought sex with Jack alone was good but this, this was _great._

Tim gives a final couple of laps to Rhys’ head, smiling all the while, pleased with the young man’s pitiful state. There’s a chuckle from Jack and Tim looks back over his shoulder with glittering eyes.

“Oh kiddos, now this, this I could get used to.” Jack grins cracking his knuckles loudly and hefting himself up out of the big chair.

Tim chuckles lightly and looks up to Rhys’ unmoving form.

“I-I can’t feel my legggggs…” Rhys giggles his drunken haze now mixing with post orgasm bliss, rendering his brain an utterly useless pile of mush.

Jack lifts an eyebrow at the obviously drunk two men, both their cheeks stained with pink that isn’t just from all the sexual activity. Jack purrs under his breath and saunters over to the two giggly men. He pauses to lift Rhys up out of his chair allowing the lanky man to wrap his arms around his neck and Tim manages to get himself up without Jack’s help, he being a little less inebriated than Rhys. A short trip to Jack’s bedroom and he throws Rhys down onto the mattress less than gently. Rhys stretches out across the unfamiliar bedding, too drunk and too silly to really care. Jack allows himself to fall weakly onto the middle of the bed, tugging Rhys into the crook of his left arm and Tim follows suit to his right, curling tightly around Jack’s mirroring form. Jack lets go of a heavy expel of breath, exhaustion settling deep down into his bones. There should be something witty for him to say, something snarky maybe, something mean barked at one of the two men framing his sides…but there isn’t. There is only silence as the CEO’s lids slide closed and he falls into a heavy slumber. The only sound between the three men are soft snorts and the beginnings of alcohol induced snoring, legs tangled around each other, arms and fingers splayed across chests, noses buried in necks and sheets wrapped around naked bodies.

And there is just sleep.


End file.
